Bordering Insanity
by Lunacracy
Summary: AU; Derek is placed into a mental institution after the death of his sister, Laura.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A blinding florescent light flickered from a distance, flashing through the one by one sized hole carved into the steel door. Derek blinked once, twice; his pupils dilated. His lids felt like razors against his eyes. The room smelled of dirt, steel and sweat. The faint hint of a medicinal smell drafted from a distant location.

Derek's mouth fell open. A gasp of air guzzled between his dry, chapped lips. Beads of sweat tickled his forehead, trickling down ever so slowly and stinging his eyes when they fell into the caverns of his sockets. His torso heaved upward, only rising a few centimeters from the flat surface that supported his weight. A tugging sensation radiated around his wrists; binding.

He opened his mouth to yell, shout, making some sort of noise but his throat burned. His hips lurched from the bed, adjusting the thick padding underneath him. His legs were bare, but there was the slightest tickle along his thighs, indicating some sort of dressing. The back of his head felt raw from the pressure against, what he assumed was a cot.

The raw sensation radiated through his mind, burning deep in his brain. Vertigo clung deeply to the corners of his mind; his eyes rolled back in his head, his lids falling closed. The room danced around him. His stomach turned uneasily, as if he were stranded on a boat, lost to sea while the waves rocked him back and forth. Puffs of air chocked up his throat, threatening to suffocate him.

The light flickered once more, shining a ray of light directly into Derek's eyes, blinding him monetarily. Spots of blue flickered across his retinas. He sealed his lids tight, scrunching his entire face forcefully. When he released the tension, he took a deep breath in and let out the only noise he could muster. A decent grunt echoed through the room, barely reaching the locked door. Derek arched his neck, pulling his head lower and his chin pointed toward the ceiling. The tangles in his hair tugged painfully against his scalp.

The sound of a keys jingling brought him enough strength to croak out another grunt. His throat ached fiercely. His chest felt as he was inhaling pure sea water; sloshing and tearing his lungs to pieces. The jingle of the keys grew louder, closer. He bucked his hips upward again, landing back down on the cot with a loud thump. The door opened, but Derek could not see the figure.

"_Derek_?" It was a woman.

His lip quivered as he breathed noisily but he could not speak.

"Mr. Hale. Do you know why you are here?_"_ Her tone of voice was meant to sound assertive and firm, but fell flat around the edges. She paused; Derek could hear her breathing steadily across the dank little room. "Can you speak?"

Derek managed to shake his head back and forth. Just then, a cup of water with a straw was placed directly next to his face. His muscles were weak, but still managed to jolt painfully due to surprise. The plastic cup crinkled against his cheek. He arched his neck, just barely reaching the straw and putting it to his lips. The liquid ran directly into his lungs. His chest heaved, propelling spurts of clear liquid across his body and, the woman.

"You attacked another orderly, Derek." She spoke softly as she patted a napkin to the pools of liquid sprinkled across his gown. He continued to cough up the intrusion of liquid with his eyes clenched shut tight.

"_Derek!_" He heaved, managing to finally catch his breath and brought his attention to the woman standing next to the cot with eyes wide. He breath came out in breathless pants; oxygen barely reaching his strained lungs.

"Do you even remember what happened?" She prompted. Her hands ran over her blue scrubs, smoothing them out before taking a step towards him. The question lacked any surprise. The woman's features told him that she already knew the answer. He wondered why she had even asked.

"You were screaming your sister's name." Derek caught the name on the tag clipped to her scrub pocket. _Amanda Fields MD_. "You were screaming about the fire again too. I'm beginning to grow concerned about your tr-" Dr. Fields looked concerned just then. Derek's features contorted into confusion. Her head cocked to the side and her brows arched down.

Dr. Fields took another step toward Derek and knelt down beside his bed. She placed her hand on his restrained wrist. Something in her features brought a flash of fear ripping through him. It was as if she had had this conversation before. "Derek." Her tongue slipped between her lips, whether to wet them or stall for time.

"You've been having black outs. I'm your doctor, and you are in Beacon Hills Mental Institution. You have been here since your sister, Laura, died."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The small office reeked of medical supplies and dust. The 70's style wallpaper was peeling from the corners of the walls, revealing just how old this facility really was. Derek sucked in his bottom lip; the pink skin had been chewed raw in such a short amount of time. The anxiety medication they had forced down his throat had zero effect. He was nearly convinced that the medication itself was causing more problems than it was helping. Derek's lashes fluttered as he rolled his eyes behind closed lids.

"Hale." A soft voice drifted through the slightly cracked door. Derek adjusted his elbows resting on top of his knees. His head grazed against the side of his forearm, his eyes graced the books on the opposite end of the office to avoid watching the too-sweet doctor walk through the door with her fake grin. Paper shuffled before a body entered. The sound of her one-size-too-big cheap heels skidded across the thin, frazzled carpet. Derek left out a puff of air through his nostrils and shut his eyes. Whether it was a part of her job or not, the sickening smile made him dread these mandatory weekly visits.

"Derek, look at me." She was standing too close; he could hear the breath leaving her lungs. He sunk his head lower. The overgrown stubble across his cheeks burned the skin on his arm. Dr. Fields finally retreated to her desk across from him. She fumbled with the manila file in her hands until she had it neatly splayed out in front of her. Derek traced the threads of carpet that were unraveling underneath the uncomfortable chair he sat in. The doctor clear her throat, maybe in some attempt to grab his attention or maybe she needed a lozenge.

He slouched further into the plastic coated chair. The material creaked and protested against his weight. The itchy blue hospital issued scrubs that clothed his legs dug into the backside of his knee. Derek readjusted his elbows and threaded his fingers together before hiding his entire face behind his forearms. An annoyed sigh could be heard from the other side of the large brown desk. Derek released his own exhausted sigh but finally revealed his face fully. His eyes dropped to the folder on her desk. He spotted _that_ smile out of the corner of his eye and cringed.

"Derek…" She paused to clear her throat. "Mr. Hale. How have you been feeling on your newest medication?" Dr. Fields pulled a few sheets of paper from the file and shuffled them with her gaze glued to him.

Derek rolled his shoulders back, adjusting his posture. The corners of his mouth curled down into a frown. It wasn't as if he had a choice, whether he liked them or not. If he denied, they injected an eerily green serum into his ass cheek. He shifted his weight in the chair, the memory triggering the induced pain of the syringe. He shook his head gently, a strand of hair fell down his forehead.

His tongue darted out between his lips, dampening the raw, chewed spots freckling his mouth. "Fine. It's fine." He lied.

It wasn't fine. None of this was fine; none of it made any sense. Derek felt the prickling heat of anger tickling his mind and creating a knot in his stomach. His body went ridged. Dr. Fields suddenly appeared frightened and her arm darted downward quickly. The sound of a button being mashed barely caught his attention. His wide eyes met her apologetic ones before two guards rushed in. Their hands clasped tightly around his biceps, holding him tightly in place.

Dr. Fields stood then and weaved around the large desk to stand directly in front of him. "Let me remind you, Mr. Hale, you have been in this facility for six months. The home you shared with your family burned down in a fire when you were younger. You and your sister – "

Derek lurched forward, only to be jerked backward. A helpless, pain filled yelp caught in his throat. "I know what happened to my family!" He halfway shouted. The doctor's back bowed backward, in some attempt to put space between them. Derek failed to take in the amount of time he had spent in this hospital.

"Let me finish." She interjected politely. As if she hadn't just called in her guard dogs.

"Your sister, Laura…" Fields paused to pull a sheet a paper off of her desk and wielded it in front of her. A photo of Derek's sister, Laura, had been printed across the white sheet. Derek's breath caught in his throat. His mouth grew dry at the site of his smiling, happy sister. A knot of guilt grew larger in his stomach. Derek clenched his eyes shut tight and breathed heavily through his nostrils.

"Derek, focus. Hey." A warm hand landed on his thigh, causing him to jolt upright. Fingers dug into the skin of his shoulders, holding him steady. Dr. Fields had crouched in front of him. He could spot the heel of her shoe hanging completely off her foot and the slip underneath her skirt had become ruffled around her knees. The moment felt incredibly awkward. Derek could hear his heart pounding in his chest fiercely; it rang loud against his eardrums and distracted his thoughts.

"Your sister died, almost seven months ago." She spoke quietly. Her thumb traced circles against his legs. He wondered briefly if that actually worked for other people – patients. Derek stared her down with narrowed eyes. The muscles in his thigh flinched against her touch, startling her enough to take her hand off.

"Your sister was the victim of murder. An intoxicated man, not of sound mind…" She trailed off and brushed strands of hair from her forehead. She stood up straight, Derek's eyes never left her face. The pit of his stomach burned and ached as memories flashed and flickered through his mind.

"Now…" She started as she returned to her desk. The guards remained in place; it was beginning to irritate Derek. His lip twitched upward and his eyebrows furrowed together. He watched Dr. Fields with a burning stare. Fiery anger coated his entire mind, soaking into his soul and burned at his thoughts.

"How do you feel on your new medication?" She prompted, but her gaze wasn't on him anymore. She seemed invested in the sheet of paper plastered to the inside cover of the folder. It must be his medication chart. Her mouth contorted into a frown before she looked up at him. "You refused your medication almost every day this week." Derek shifted his weight again and winced, whether it was the residual prick of the syringe or the fingernails digging into his collar bone, he couldn't tell the difference.

"Your episodes are happening more frequently. You've been put in solitary four times in the last two weeks and now, you are refusing your medication."

"If you prefer the syringe then that is completely fine." It almost sounded as if she attempted sarcasm.

"Or you could not forcefully medicate me." He spat back. Derek tilted his head to the side with his eyes narrowed, acknowledging her ridiculous statement.

"If you don't tell me what is wrong with the medication, I can only assume that you are being stubborn." Her eyebrow arched up her forehead, creating a collection of wrinkled skin.

The file flopped closed. The irritation was becoming clear in the doctor's features. "You have group this week. Try to participate." She forced out with the cheesiest grin smeared across her face, although the frustration was written behind her brown eyes. "Stiles will be joining you." She added.

Derek's head shot up. "Stiles?" His eyebrows arched down in confusion.

Dr. Fields nodded and folded her arms across her desk in front of her. "Wasn't he one of your friends, before you came here?" Suddenly she looked confused. Her fingers reached up to scratch at her forehead. "No, that was Scott. Or…Lydia." She sighed, obviously confused.

Her hand raised up, signaling the guards. Derek relaxed assuming the worst was over, only to be pulled upward. The chair that held his weight flopped to its side. He stumbled to plant his feet to the ground as he was dragged from the office.

"Remember to participate in group!" Dr. Fields hollered from office.


End file.
